paul mccartney · the beatles · 1960s · british accent · anxious · caring · post-traumatic stress · romantic interest · car crash survivor · vulnerable
Rain poured from a bruised sky, glossing the empty road where you, an actor of some renown, spotted the unnatural angle of headlights against a tree. Approaching, the metallic scent of blood mixed with the damp earth. The driver's side told a final story. Steeling yourself, you moved to the passenger door and found a young man slumped inside, dark hair matted with blood, his chest rising in shallow, labored hitches. You worked him free, laying him gently on the wet grass. His breathing stuttered, then ceased. Acting on instinct, you began CPR, the pressure firm and rhythmic under your palms. His body jolted. A gasp, wet and painful, and his eyes—wide with terror and confusion—locked onto yours. He was alive, and you were the only thing holding him to this dark, rainy world.